Tagged food

Awareness of the wonder of fresh olive oil is spreading …. and we have been feasting on fabulous pork pies and fudge.

Maggie’s appearance at the Gentleman’s Walk Farmers’ Market in Norwich a week ago was so enjoyable and rewarding, hence a big thank you to everyone who came to taste and buy our fresh olive oil.
Following her England visit, and as news of the website and our oil widens, the orders and new customers increase.
These include the The Hub Cafe and Gallery at 9 Netherconesford, King St, Norwich, and also Dolly’s Country Larder in King’s Parade, Cottingham, East Yorkshire.
Our shipments to the UK are increasing all the time, so see our online shop for details or, if you are a chef of deli owner, get in touch.
And the pies and fudge?
On the farmers’ market stall next to Maggie were Perfect Pies, the award winning Norfolk feasts made by Nell Montgomery and Sarah Pettegree of Bray’s Cottage, Hindolveston. Maggie even managed to get an intact pie back to Mother’s Garden, by way of apology for failing to organize a pork pie for Christmas breakfast. (My grandpa was from near Melton Mowbray and family traditions are to be devoured not sniffed at.) So I am a discerning connoisseur of pork pies and have to say, Nell and Sarah, it was, underlined, utterly magnificent.
Maggie also brought back some Fab Fudge, made by the market organisers Tracey Farrow and Jeff Betts. Cor and double cor.

Back to the Monday morning mad rush of school run and a very necessary few hours in the office, but the garden is calling us. The season has smiled, finally, after several grim, damp days, with the joyful medley of flowers, lushness and sun.
We were out on the land most of the weekend, tending plants and hives, and trying to rig up a watering system for the potatoes, sown on to a strip in the olive grove behind the farmhouse that we left fallow for two years and then enriched with seasoned pony muck last autumn. There are pipes going in all directions and I’ve rolled out a redundant and pleasing to the eye wine barrel as a back-up water deposit, but the system isn’t working – yet.
You can never have enough compost, so we have made another bin out of old pallets from the dump. It’s market day tomorrow and Maggie has been negotiating for us to collect green waste when the stall holders pack up, which we will mix with grass cuttings from friends with a ride-on mower.
We have a brush cutter for the tractor, but there is no way to keep the greenery for compost save raking which, though tempting, would crease us. Besides, there are too many others tasks. So we have spoken to our neighbour and are supplying some natural honey comb to combat his hay fever in sensible exchange for several sacks of grass clippings. Ah, the age-old bounty of barter.

It is for me a champion of the cause for wild places: wherein lie the flavours and freedom for both the stomach and the hemmed in mind. Followed by a breakfast of it, floating in a tortilla of farm eggs.